


Ghosts Past

by Disead



Category: Elim Garak - Fandom, Garashir - Fandom, Julian Bashir - Fandom, ST:DS9, Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: LGBTQ, M/M, Mystery, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disead/pseuds/Disead
Summary: Julian stared out into empty space, absently watching the wormhole open as a Tholian transport left with fresh medical supplies destined for the Gamma quadrant.As he leaned against the promenade rail, his mind an anxious jumble, a frightened whisper passed through pursed lips.“DAMN it Garak... where ARE you?”——-Twelve years after the fall of the Dominion, life has begun to achieve some semblance of normalcy for Elim Garak and Julian Bashir as they attempt to lead a quiet life together. As one chapter of their journey draws to a close and another is promising to begin, an unexpected and disturbing turn of events flips their world upside down. Disaster quickly unfolds, threatening their very lives while forcing them to face the ghosts of the past. To save themselves and their children, they must reunite with old friends - and older enemies - to stop a monster from a deeply buried past. However, as with all Cardassian truths nothing is as it seems; in order to save the lives of his children Garak might have to admit that not all lies are true, and that one dark secret might cost him the love of his life.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Ghosts Past

Garak opened his eyes in the dark, his senses heightened momentarily out of instinct. His right hand grasped for a concealed weapon that it did not find, and for the briefest of moments, he felt a sharp pang of anxious terror, as if the walls were closing in, pressing against him even though he could not see them. It took several heartbeats and a full breath filled with Julian’s light but somehow spicy human scent to remind him that he was in fact home, and that the interrogation was only a passing dream and nothing more. He absently realized that he must have pulled the covers off his dozing husband, who had rewarded him with a cold foot to the back in the dead of night. As beautiful as he was, he was human, and humans just preferred things so cold it was a wonder that they were able to tolerate the same quarters during these truly insufferable Bajoran winters. Well... at least Julian had promised him that at the end of spring, when he had finished his research, they could spend an entire two years on Cardassia while he helped rebuild what remained of his homeworld.

Now too thoroughly awake to try anything that remotely resembled returning to sleep, Garak chose to cover Julian up with the mountain of pilfered blankets instead. He was rewarded with a contented sigh and what he swore was a passable half-smile, barely discernible in the pale moonlight sifting through the double paned glass that looked out onto their small garden, now dormant in the chill frozen air. Seeing Julian content like this at times felt like his only source of happiness; certainly at that very moment it was most definitely what the doctor ordered to lift his spirits after that minor, what did Ezri once call it, oh yes, panic attack. His private little joke caused a small smile to unwittingly appear upon his face; yes, Doctor Julian Bashir certainly could have that effect on him, though if you had told him that nineteen years ago before they met he would have erupted into sheer uncontrollable laughter. Absolute and utter absurdity, honestly, of all things! Elim Garak, Second to Enabran Tain, Head of the Obsidian Order, the most respected and feared organization in all Cardassia, would someday fall hopelessly in love with... with a HUMAN?! Ludicrous! Outrageous! Why, something like that would get one banished to some remote region of space, perhaps to a dirty, stifling station to be humiliated as an outcast, forced to perform an inane task far beneath their capabilities! This elicited a small chuckle from the skilled tailor considering his own past, and yet... here he was, about to replicate a raktagino (another truly absurd habit acquired from Julian) before kissing a slumbering man on the forehead whom he loved wholeheartedly, one who might be, in his opinion, the most beautiful creation ever conceived before preparing breakfast for their two absolutely wonderful, perfect children.

Oh yes, that reminded him; Miles had torn his favorite pair of trousers yet again while playing “Alamo” with his father in the holosuite which needed to be repaired. Garak simply could not see the point in playing a war game over and over again when each and every time the boy and his father always chose to play on the losing side. He tried to join them once after Miles had begged him for days; he went along and played his part, and honestly acted as though he enjoyed it; in truth he found it every bit as pointless as earth-mystery novels. Why - just WHY - would one EVER want to read an entire novel in which you did not know who the killer was until the very end? The entire concept was simply awful. True masterful literature, Cardassian literature, began with knowing who committed the crime; the art form was always found in how the detective was able to prove in what way the criminal committed the deed, and in the sheer preponderance of the evidence. Speaking of evidence, Ziyal would need to have another uniform made before her next Academy Mock Trial competition. After all, she had driven her teammates to the Cardassia Prime Finals for her due diligence in getting their client to accept their guilt, an honor that truly deserved a new suit as only her father could make.

Garak realized that he had been daydreaming for an entire half hour and that the children would be up soon. Mercifully, he had nearly forgotten the terror from which he had been awakened, though the nightmares were never truly gone. He was content to settle on “nearly” for the time being and quickly rose to throw on a masterfully cut robe made from an incredibly fine Tholian silk made entirely by hand to his exact specifications when he noticed a dull pulsing light emanating from the comm panel across the room. As he moved closer he could begin to make out an incoming message encoded with a very strange encryption sequence unfolding on the display panel, and at first he was puzzled. It had been so long, over two decades in fact, since he had seen that specific encryption pattern that it took a few moments for his still-daydreaming mind to fully register what he was witnessing. When it fully dawned on him what he was reading, his heart stopped as his blood ran cold and the walls closed in.

The message was in Cardassian and was requesting a very specific, very long encryption key that he had not used in years. That encryption pattern was only ever used by the highest levels of Cardassian officials for the transmission of top secret classified material. In fact, that specific encryption pattern was only able to be used by one person, but that was factually impossible because he was dead. Elim Garak had watched him die.

As the walls collapsed on Garak and the room began to spin, the former Obsidian Order agent reached out for a chair in an attempt to steady himself and failed. He pulled the chair over, gasping for air, and landed upon it himself. The crash woke Julian with a start and a shout. The last thing Garak remembered before blacking out as the walls swallowed him whole was the name, the only possible name, that had to be attached to the encryption sequence.

The message had come from his father. The message had come from Enabran Tain.


End file.
